


where your heart lies (when the light's by your side)

by genuslocii



Series: falling to the stars - a world of angels and demons [2]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel/Human Relationships, Angst, F/F, Two Shot, ambiguous death, squint for jeongyeon and momo too but theyre there, squint for samo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25876246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genuslocii/pseuds/genuslocii
Summary: On the precipice between heaven and hell, Mina chooses Im Nayeon.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Myoui Mina
Series: falling to the stars - a world of angels and demons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877749
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	where your heart lies (when the light's by your side)

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece with [ this. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420685)  
> Though, you do not need to read it to understand what's happening. It's more like icing to the cake.
> 
> Mina and Chae use their English names for the first parts of this fic. Hope you enjoy (kinda ironic given the warning though)
> 
> //
> 
> The young angel, Sharon, has found a drop of salvation, in the hands of the human, Im Nayeon.

There are words that hold a gravity to them, a magnet between body and soul, between one and two, and everything there is that exists.

There are words that are like fire, bright and blinding, searing into skin, into bone, boiling the very blood coursing through the veins, burning into the end of eternity.

A promise, a warning, a confession, a prayer.

There are words never meant to be forgotten.

There are words never meant to be spoken.

Hanging heavy in the air, between the specks of dust beneath the blades of the morning light.

A goodbye.

She’d smiled then, so tenderly, her eyes glistening with the warmth of a weighted answer. She’d smiled too, painfully, as she caressed her cheek softly with the back of her hand. Sitting together on the tangled sheets, she’d whispered a name like a prayer.

And a revelation.

‡

The first time she sees her is accidental. A happenstance that’s never really meant to occur. In the crowded streets of Seoul, as she drifts through the human crowds in perfect mimicry of their facades, she catches sight of her.

Imposing. It was the aura that surrounded her, as she walked in long and perfect strides, with her shoulders squared and back straightened. In her muted beige coat and black stilettos, she exuded the ambience of power and royalty.

And maybe she is. Maybe she isn’t.

All she knows is their gazes meet, lock for a split second.

With a weight of something that cannot be named, a knowledge that is yet to be known. She doesn’t know of any meaning, of any essence to that simple gaze—in the moment, they are nothing but strangers in a crowded intersection.

Still, there is something to this moment. Angels never feared humans—they are, after all,  _ undoubtedly _ higher beings than them.

But under the human’s gaze, the angel, Sharon, felt her chest squeeze tightly, as if it had known something she did not. For an instant, she shrunk under the dark gaze, felt the shudder crawl up her spine like a curious spider up a pipe.

And then, it disappears, just as the human woman turns away, her dark brown tresses thrown against her shoulder, fluttering in the soft breeze.

She had not known her yet. Had not known anything yet.

(There are many things she’s yet to learn but the first thing of essence—)

She learns the woman’s name later.

In a dark office, at the ninth floor of a highrise building owned by the Im conglomerate, she finds a nameplate on a polished, mahogany desk.

_ Im Nayeon. _

Asleep on a nearby couch.

The other day she had seen her, yes, in a crowded intersection, whilst she was trailing a demon disguised as a human. Tonight, she is alone, in her office, sent by the higher heavens to quell her turbulent dreams.

The work of an angel is many and varied. Sometimes, they are messengers. Other times, they are soldiers. And then, ironically, they can also be peacemakers.

They are many things, but tonight, Sharon is a messenger. A beacon to guide a lost soul. In this human’s fragile heart lies a dormant prayer, obscured by turbulent dreams.

But when she lays a palm against her forehead, when the nightmare flashes across her mind in quick flickers, bearing in its core a weighted prayer, the air stills, time’s march comes to a sudden halt—

The woman’s eyes flutter open. Glistening with suppressed tears.

A long breath threads through the frozen atmosphere.

The woman blinks.

And Sharon crouches beside her.

“Who—who are you?” the human’s whisper is broken. Frail and trembling. There is pain in her puzzled gaze, and Sharon uses a thumb to wipe away a forming tear.

_ “Do not be afraid. Everything will be alright,”  _ the angel reassures her, like she does every time during these rare moments, when a client would awaken.  _ “We are always listening.” _

And as she caresses her with a gentle palm, the woman’s eyes slowly flutter shut, her breaths evening out and relaxing.

She returns to her slumber. But Sharon continues to caress her cheek, her temples, humming a soft melody of a song from long ago, easing her back into sleep.

Angels are not omniscient. There are things they know beyond that of humanity’s knowledge, but there is a hierarchy—the older hold more knowledge, more power, and still, even they do not hold a fraction of the knowledge God holds.

Sharon is relatively young—her conception was right at the crux of Korea’s Joseon period. All she knows is to empathize, to feel the emotions of the humans she tends to and catch glimpses, bits and pieces of the visions that plagued them.

Im Nayeon’s prayer exudes the blue of sadness.

So, she caresses her, singing softly, hoping it is a warm enough gesture. A parting gift, perhaps. Oftentimes, they only encounter these humans once, as they are given to another in the next assignment.

(Maybe it was a mistake.)

Maybe it was for the best.

She leaves with this as a small farewell. With her ivory wings spread out at her sides, she jumps back into the outside.

(She knows nothing yet, not even the moment when the woman’s eyes peak open, watching her curiously as she phases through the glass windows and out into the night sky.)

†

For the first half of an angel’s lifetime, they remember many things. The people, the places, the names—accepting everything with the wonder of a year-old infant. And just like humans, their age brings with it the loss of such wonder.

There will always be humans, comrades, places they will remember all throughout their lifetime, and there will be others they will not. Catarina often tells her this, as one who’s lived for a few millennia longer, as a soul much, much older than her.

Truthfully, the faces she’d once been so familiar with have begun to gray, fade out into nothingness, save for the first human she’d encountered. Catarina tells her it is hard to forget one’s firsts and lasts, and that it is easy to forget the in-betweens, no matter how kind an angel is.

It comes to her surprise when she remembers Im Nayeon, both in name and in face when several months have already passed.

It’s an even bigger surprise when the woman in question falls to sit beside her one day, on a lone bench in an even lonelier park. The bite of winter in Seoul is sharp as a knife, and if she were human, she would have been bundled up in thick layers of wool. Maybe that’s why Im Nayeon is here now, looking at her strangely, with her brows furrowed and heart-shaped lips pursed.

“Aren’t you cold?” The question is posed by the human.

“No,” the angel answers tersely. Today is her quiet day, this hour a short break from all her tasks. She’d been too tired to head over to Catarina’s little sanctuary for a mere hour long break, and so she’d settled for this lonely park in Seoul.

Well, it was meant to be lonely.

“You look pale,” Im Nayeon says, “I have a spare coat.” 

“It’s really alright,” Sharon reassures her. Maybe it was a lapse in her own judgment to wear a simple cotton dress given the occasion, but human clothing has always been quite restricting—never been her taste.

“Well, I insist.”

The coat is slid over her shoulders before she can protest further, and really, the only thing she can do is smile and offer her gratitude.

Humans can truly be such precious creatures, she supposes. But they can also be otherwise troublesome.

“I’m Im Nayeon, by the way.”

Perhaps this one is more precious than troublesome—strangely, a far cry from how she’d last seen her. The blue in her soul has subsided, replaced instead with the muted yellow of curiosity.

The hand she shakes is larger than hers, cold too—enveloping her own like winter’s embrace. And when she looks up, when their gazes meet, she sees the same depth in her eyes—a strange longing, a question, hidden beneath the swirls of darkness. The light sheen.

“What’s your name?”

Sharon blinks. “Hm?”

“Your name?” Nayeon chuckles. Her eyes are twinkling. “I mean, you have my coat right there. Pretty expensive one too. I could at least know your name?”

Sharon knows she should have left. Should have tittered airily in the guise of an airhead and left right then and there.

Instead, her mind wanders back to a faint memory, filled with threes. Long ago in history, when she was much younger, walking beneath the cherry blossoms in rural Japan, with two at her side. The soft laughters that had filled the afternoon air filling her chest with the warmth of an aging sunset.

_ “What shall be the name of this kindhearted little angel of ours, who loves everybody with everything she has in her?” _

_ “What else shall it be? Of course, it can only be—” _

“Mina.”

Nayeon tilts her head to the side. “Is that your name?”

The angel meets her gaze and smiles an empty smile. “My name is Mina.”

Yes, it was her name, a long time ago. It was a name gifted to her by an old and precious friend. The first name she had ever gone by, and the first one she had chosen to so vehemently denounce.

A name that feels like a breath of fresh air on Nayeon’s cherry lips.

“Mina,” she says, smiling, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I tell you something?”

The angel regards her curiously. “What is it?”

“The reason why I approached you is this,” and then Nayeon leans closer, her voice falling to a soft whisper. “Whether it was in a previous lifetime or in this one, I feel like we already know each other, Mina.”

She settles back into her place with a smile that looks satisfied, and the angel beside her can only stare in thinly veiled bemusement.

(She doesn’t want to admit it yet, but maybe she likes the way the abandoned name sounds on the human’s tongue.)

(Maybe Im Nayeon is more troublesome than she lets on, after all.)

†

“Do you remember your first name?”

“Of course. It was impressed into our minds before we even opened—”

“No, not  _ that _ ,” Sharon chuckles, looking up into the vastness of the dark skies beyond. The stars are endless in the canvas of space, in its emptiness. In another sanctuary of endless greens, maybe they would look like stars too.

Beside her, Catarina’s fingers turn still against the bud of an unfamiliar flower. She turns to look at her quizzically, her bottom lip jutting slightly out in a small pout. It’s strange to think the angel before her is one who is millennia older than her, under the visage of a rather innocent, younger-looking girl.

She remembers the first time she’d seen her, and the blinding light that surrounded her vision, and how she’d shuddered in fear. They were much different then.

“The name you’d chosen for yourself,” Sharon explains.

Catarina’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she nods. “You meant  _ that _ .”

Sharon nods.

“Honestly, I had not chosen a name for myself for a long time after I’d been born,” Catarina sighs through her nose, looking up to the stars. “Until I suddenly had one unceremoniously handed down to me some… centuries ago.”

Sharon smiles faintly. “She’d given you yours too?”

“I still remember it, after all this time,” Catarina says. “I’d never forget it. She had been too engrossed in Asian literature, after all, and I’d shared the same interest.”

“Is that the only reason why?”

Catarina turns to her. Her dark gaze is guarded, and the smile playing on her lips is empty. “Why are you asking?”

Sharon looks away. “I remember mine too.”

“Do you want it back?”

Sharon sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. She bumps her foot against Catarina’s. “What’s in a name for it to sound so different on someone else’s lips?”

“It’s in the way they breathe it out,” Catarina answers, “In the lilts of their voice, the tone—there is meaning in the way their tongue rolls out each syllable, each letter. It reveals something only we can hear—the soul one pours out for someone else.”

Sharon can only nod slowly, without meeting her dear friend’s prodding gaze. Instead, her eyes focus on the stars again, twinkling against the blackness beyond. In the emptiness of everywhere and nowhere.

There is power in a name, in the way it can herald the beginning and the end. The morning star bore pride over his beloved name, and in turn, was stripped of it and thrown to the fires below, in a time long before her.

She remembers her own name, and the one who’d given it to her, and what it had done to them three.

(Everything begins and ends with a name.)

†

There is a belief that exists of God’s plan, that every being’s lifetime is laid out like an already finished storybook in the vast library of God’s creations. There is an ounce of truth in this—angels exist, after all, for this very purpose, to watch over His children and guide them. Some are assigned their own humans, and some watch over many. 

Yes, God does have a plan, though not in the way humans like to think it is. Angels are all aware of this, though none know exactly what it is.

Sharon wonders if every earthly encounter she has with Im Nayeon is in His plan. If it is just an anomaly, a coincidence, or destiny. Is there a purpose she knows naught about?

She wonders about many things, about how the encounters have grown more frequent with each walk through the earth. She wonders about the way the woman never fails to approach her first each time, always with a smile that’s either excited or snarky or both. Nayeon is surprisingly friendly, especially given her background and the first time she’d encountered her. A little loud, sure. Maybe a tad brash.

The thing that irks her about Im Nayeon is that she is an untimely disruption to each of her assignments. Somehow always materializing just at the moment where she’s an arm’s reach away from her goal.

(For instance:

While walking after a demon disguised as a man, she finds her path suddenly blocked, and Im Nayeon standing right before her, beaming.

“Mina, glad I caught you there,” she says. “Care for a cup of coffee?”

And Sharon can only watch as the demon grins and disappears into a corner, nodding helplessly at Nayeon’s greeting.)

It’s for this reason she begins taking more supernatural assignments over groundwork in Korea. It’s for this reason she spends her quiet moments more carefully, in isolated mountaintops, on highrise rooftops, in Catarina’s faraway sanctuary.

It’s a small sacrifice she has to make, though she misses her walks through Seoul’s quiet parks too, in those small pockets of serenity hidden beneath the buzz of the metropolis.

Maybe it’s lonelier this way, but for God’s sake, she’s an angel.

They aren’t meant to have human company in the first place.

†

The night always brings with it an undercurrent of sadness washing over humanity, beneath the buzz of the city life. Tonight, the heart of Seoul beats at blue wavelengths, casting a dull ache in every nearby angel’s ribcage. It’s a shared pain amongst her peers. A burden they have to bear as His servants and as their guardians.

Sharon feels her own heart break at the sight of the tears streaking down this little girl’s cheeks. She’s alone in a bedroom much too large for her, and her mother is only a few rooms away.

And her father?

Nowhere to be seen. (Sharon knows where he is, and she pities this family terribly for this information.)

She grimaces as she wipes them away in her slumber, pressing a warm hand against her temple. Lately, the dreams she sees have become much clearer, but they’ve never made much sense. It’s always running, always screaming, crying— _ pain _ .

“Do not be afraid. It will be alright,” she promises in a soft whisper, stroking the girl’s dark hair gently. Her breaths are starting to calm. “We have always been listening.”

_ “Do you never tire of making empty promises?” _

Sharon’s hand stills. She feels her chest hollow out in the briefest instant, feels the cold fear crawl slowly up her spine.

The voice is one that is too familiar.

She slowly turns around, to a far corner of the bedroom.

A pair of amber eyes stare back at her in the darkness. Glowing brightly. There’s a low chuckle that pierces the silent air, cold and taunting.

The demon steps out into the light. A red smile plastered on her lips. With her orange hair cascading down her chest, the dull glow of the moonlight kissing her skin, she looks ethereal.

In another life, maybe Sharon would have said so.

“Wasn’t it the Father who had told you never to swear, never to make such promises? After all, they’re only meant to be broken,” she says in her singsong voice.

“How  _ dare _ you use that against me,” Sharon squeezes her eyes shut and looks away. The dull throbbing in her chest grows ever so slightly. “You have no right.”

The demon tucks her hands behind her, whistling sweetly. “Is it not the truth? That girl will still experience years of pain before she can finally find some sort of spiritual peace.”

“Pain is necessary,” Sharon hisses through grit teeth. “We are only here to help ease her through it.”

“But why must she feel pain in the first place?” the demon interjects. “Why does the Father proclaim His love for His children so, when he willingly puts them through this pain—?”

_ “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” _

They’re face-to-face before Sharon knows it. Barely any inches apart. Low breaths huffed out of their nostrils. Gazes locked in a silent battle. The demon is still smiling as she steps away.

(But there’s a shift in her expression, an obscured pain in her tight smile.)

“It’s been a long time,” the demon whispers,  _ “Mina.” _

Sharon steps back. “You have no right to call me that.”

The demon only chuckles. “I have every right to.”

“Was it you, who filled this girl with such terrible dreams?” Sharon hisses. “Was it you, who—who’s been doing all this?”

“Does it matter? You’ve already ‘eased’ her pain—isn’t that what’s important?” the demon crosses her arms.

Sharon clenches her jaw. She’s sure she’s digging holes into the flesh of her palms.

“You should go,” she says lowly. “It’s no good for you to be around a human for so long,  _ demon _ .”

The demon in question chuckles bitterly, her arms unfolding, as the dark wings begin to unfurl on her back. “Has my name erased itself from your mind, truly?”

Sharon does not answer her. Her cold glower remains, never leaving the demon’s glowing eyes. The other can merely sigh, finally stepping back.

“I always knew you’d look good in blonde,” she sighs wistfully, eyeing the golden tresses cascading down Sharon’s shoulders. Her smile falters. “Until we meet again then, little angel,” she says as she turns around, her wings spread at her sides.

“Goodbye,” Sharon answers, averting her gaze, “ _ Sana _ .”

For a moment— _ just for a moment _ —the demon hesitates, throwing one last glance to the angel in the room. The amber glow long gone in her eyes, replaced instead with something unnamable. Sharon meets her wet gaze with her own.

And then she disappears in a black plume, leaving behind nothing but a dark feather. Almost ebony, but not quite. The feather from a demon’s wing is rougher than an angel’s; its tips sometimes sharp enough to break skin. But Sana’s is soft when Sharon picks it up from the ground, dissipating at her touch, crumbling into bits of ashes that vanish into the air.

There’s a dull droning deep within the caverns of her ribcage that she tunes out, drowns out, just as she does each time she reminisces of the past.

Tonight feels quiet again.

So, she closes her eyes, feels the appendages unwind themselves from beneath her shoulder blades, and lets the warmth, the light embrace her being. When she opens her eyes, she finds her wings have taken her to an isolated park in Seoul. In the distance are the faint sounds of traffic and the still alight city life.

In here, the air is still, buzzing only with the occasional sounds of nearby crickets. The only light to guide her is from a lone lamppost.

She takes in the scent of the night air, the breath of the nearby trees and flowers—

The smell of nicotine…?

She blinks, contemplating for a few moments, before she slowly turns to a lone bench set off against a brick wall. She nearly misses the small embers burning off the cigarette stick, the blue smoke clouds swirling through the air, billowing from cherry red lips.

Tonight, Im Nayeon feels blue again. Alone on a lonely bench, smoking a dying cigarette.

She doesn’t know what compels her to do it, but she’s walking before she knows it. Her wings tuck themselves back in.

Nayeon’s eyes light up in surprise at her arrival.

“Mina?” her voice is hoarser than usual, fragile at its seams. She sniffles, and it’s only then the angel notices the red tint beneath her eyes, on her nose, her cheeks.

“Im Nayeon,” Sharon mutters, as if in greeting.

“It’s been a while,” Nayeon chuckles a little. Wafting out the distinct scent of alcohol in her breath. “I used to see you a lot over the past month. For a while there, I thought you were avoiding me.”

_ I was. _

Sharon smiles, taking a seat beside her. “I have been busy, I suppose.”

“You’re always so formal with me,” Nayeon says. “I thought we were friends.”

Sharon lets out a small chuckle, breathless and empty. “Why are you out here, alone in the middle of the night?”

Nayeon glances at her briefly, before she snorts. The crease in her brows and the tightness of her smile colors her face with an anguish barely veiled beneath her pained laughter. She turns to the sky in that moment, letting the moonlight embrace her face fully. Sharon can see the tears that line her eyelids, how they sparkle in the light.

“Ah, I messed up, Mina,” Nayeon leans against the wall. “I’m sorry if I was annoying you before. It must have been overwhelming having a random stranger suddenly forcing herself into your life like that. Must have been why I haven’t seen you as much, huh?”

Sharon doesn’t say anything. Just listens and waits.

“The truth is, there was a reason why I acted the way I did.” Nayeon shifts closer, her voice turning softer, almost a whisper. Sharon can smell the alcohol emanating from her.

There’s a sinking feeling crawling down her chest, as she asks, “Why?”

Nayeon lets out a puff of air before she starts, unusually monotone. “I’m the only living daughter of a powerful man, Mina. A successor for a position fought over by so many other people, men and women alike. I’m young and female—I don’t want to think there are biases, but I know I have to work harder just to prove my worth as a successor.

“Recently, my father was looking to hire new talents for a CF the marketing team was putting together. They wanted a model—a new face,” Nayeon turns to her. “It was the day I saw you, in the crowded streets of this metropolis.”

Sharon says nothing.

“I promised father I’d get him a new model for the company. Someone who’d definitely get the public talking,” Nayeon chuckles bitterly. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Mina?”

Angels never liked to talk about their beauty, though they are aware of it. It’s all just a grandiose facade to hide everything underneath.

“You wanted to hire me,” Sharon threads the message together, staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

Nayeon sighs. “I’m sorry.”

What does this angel feel now, right in this moment? Relief? Disappointment? Truthfully, she’s not too sure herself. Truthfully, relief would be the appropriate emotion—it’s frightening, having human company. Dangerous. Their existence is not meant to be known.

There’s something gnawing at her, from deep within her cavernous ribcages. In the hollow husk of this human body.

“But then you disappeared. To top it all off, one of my, er,  _ ‘rivals’ _ stole the spot,” Nayeon sighs, slipping the cigarette back between her lips. “And so, here I am—CEO Im’s disappointment of a daughter, drowning her feelings out in cigarettes and alcohol.”

There’s something there—she can’t name it, but it feels as if it’s inked in black. Like the darkness seeped into the feather that had just crumbled in her palms.

“You must dislike me now, if you didn’t before,” Nayeon glances at her. “I was trying to use you.”

“Would you like a hug?”

The woman blinks, turning to face her fully now. Her face awash with wave after wave of emotion—shock, confusion, worry.

Gratitude?

She blinks again, and Sharon swears she sees her iris glisten for a split second.

“A—Are you… sure…?”

Sharon raises her arms. “It’s just a hug. From one friend to another.”

Truthfully, she doesn’t know what compels her to do the things she does now. But when Nayeon falls into her embrace, when she wraps her arms around her and presses a palm against the side of her head, when she feels this soul inside turn warmer, warmer—Sharon feels calm.  _ Right _ . As if it’s what she’s meant to do.

(There’s something else rising up from the inky blackness.)

“There really is something about you, Mina,” Nayeon sighs, pressing her face into the angel’s shoulder. “I feel so at peace when I’m with you. It’s so warm and gentle.”

“Is that so?”

“I wasn’t lying, by the way,” Nayeon mumbles, “when I told you I felt like we’ve already met before, or that you were beautiful. When I saw you, I did want to approach you. When I saw you, I—”

There’s a dull throb, so familiar, yet so foreign.

“I felt like it was right that I met you,” Nayeon says, and Sharon retracts her hand.

She remembers this feeling. It’s been so long since the last time, since the  _ fall _ . She remembers clutching Catarina’s hand, the screams, the anger. She remembers staring at amber eyes.

Ah.

It’s this dark,  _ dark _ feeling again.

“I forgive you,” she whispers into the night, letting the human melt into her embrace.

†

She’s in the park again, laden with a thinner blanket of white. The snowflakes drifting down from above press soft kisses against the top of her head, along her exposed skin. But winter is slowly melting away.

She’s in the same lonely park like always, but she’s not alone.

“You look tiny in your coat,” Nayeon pipes up from beside her, grinning against the rim of her coffee cup. She extends another towards Sharon.

“Does it look bad on me?” Sharon asks curiously as she takes the cup. The scent of the caffeine wafting through her nose sends a homegrown warmth through her insides.

“No. You look—er, good,” Nayeon flushes, taking a few quick steps forward.

“It’s new,” Sharon looks her own outfit over. She isn’t lying—Catarina had the costume conjured up for her without her say. She’s never been one too concerned with fashion, let alone,  _ human _ fashion.

“You seem like you don’t go out much,” Nayeon remarks, “I remember meeting you here back then, in just that thin dress.”

“I may be a tad ignorant,” Sharon jokes half-heartedly, taking a sip of the coffee. She scrunches her nose. “Mm, it’s quite bitter.”

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Nayeon extends her arm.

“No, it’s fine,” Sharon continues drinking, anyway. She doesn’t need to, of course. She can’t feel the cold, nor can she actually ingest the drink. Though, she rarely tries human sustenance, so this is a welcome change.

“I can order something else next time.”

_ Next time. _

Sharon wonders when these “next times” had become a regular. She wonders when she’d come to accept them, in the timespan between that night in the park and now. It did start from that night, didn’t it?

Most of all, she wonders why she’s no longer avoiding them. Is it pity? A strange sense of duty tied to her own nature? Perhaps—or perhaps not. All she knows is there’s something about Im Nayeon that makes her stay.

(There’s a feeling that arises, both familiar and foreign, whenever she’s around her, but she doesn’t want to think about it. All she thinks about is that—)

Nayeon smiles at her, a few paces down.

“Thanks for accompanying me on my break,” she says.

“Thank you, as well, for doing the same,” Sharon smiles.

“I’m glad to have you as a friend, Mina,” Nayeon squeezes her shoulders.

A friend. Right. Nayeon is a friend.

A  _ human  _ friend.

That should be fine, right?

†

Lately, there have been a lot of questions running through her mind, always at the sight of Im Nayeon—in her laughter and her smile, in the twinkle of her eyes whenever she catches sight of her. Sharon likes to think she’s well acquainted with this world, but she’s never really stayed so close with a human before.

The closest she’s ever been was in whispering prayers and blessings to slumbering humans she’d been chosen to play guardian over.

But now she has a friend.

She wonders about many things. Quiet thoughts run through her head as she watches Catarina wading through the sea of endless green a few paces ahead of her. Surrounded by flowers that have existed before and have yet to exist, unnamable and unknown and everything there is.

She plucks a flower of two colors, bright yellow, tainted red at its edges. She turns it around in her hand.

Catarina looks back at her, quirking a brow.

“A carnation,” she says simply. “Why are you surrounded by yellows and reds?”

Sharon glances around her, chuckling at the truth of her statement. She’d failed to notice the flowers changing around her, she supposes.

“Have you ever had a human companion?” she queries, her gaze not leaving the flower between her fingertips.

Catarina glances up to the sky, contemplative. “Well, I suppose I had… have… will have, although significantly less in the future.” she turns again to Sharon, smiling. “It’s not something that can really be avoided, especially in the early days. I had become friends with some humans I’d guarded, though most of them thought I was imaginary.”

Sharon nods. “I see.”

“Why do you ask?” Catarina walks towards her. Drifting through the flower bed like a ghost.

“It was—it’s just a thought,” Sharon lets the flower fall back into the field, watches it get swallowed by the same ones. “As celestial beings we’re not meant to be known, but we look like them in this form, and you’ve made some friends too.”

“The key to it is that they’re not meant to know what we are,” Catarina says, “The people I’ve gone through, I’ve met, never knew who I truly am—or  _ what  _ I am.” She stops in front of Sharon. “Have you found yourself a human friend, Sharon?”

Sharon’s eyes shoot up, wide and panicked. But Catarina looks calm, with her gaze leveled and a simple idle smile playing on her lips. She takes her hand in her own, and Sharon feels the warmth of a hidden star seep in.

“Why do you seem afraid to tell me things?” Catarina whispers, leaning in and resting her head against hers. “There are some things that are inevitable. I am not in a place to judge you for anything.”

Sharon closes her eyes, lets out a soft sigh.

“But as an angel, there are two things you must know,” Catarina leans back a little, gaze flickering between Sharon’s eyes. “One, is that humans can be deceptive—sometimes, they do things for the sake of their own hidden agendas. We may not be able to control it, but they become inherently drawn to us because of our nature. This becomes especially apparent, when they obtain a part of our essence—a piece of our clothing, a strand of hair, a feather—anything, really.”

Sharon swallows thickly, recalling Nayeon’s words to her, so many weeks ago, on a quiet night in a park.

“The second, is that the scent of angels is sweet to a demon’s nose, and when that lingers around a human—”

Sharon’s eyes snap open. Catarina smiles evenly.

“You must be careful. That’s all I’m saying,” she says, letting go of her palm.

“You—” Sharon lets out a breath, realizing then that she’d been holding one the entire time. She blinks. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? Don’t you know me already?” Catarina winks.

“You won’t… reprimand me or anything?”

“If you wish to be scolded, you can tell the others, perhaps Jihyo, in particular—is that what she’s been calling herself lately?—and maybe they’ll bring it up to the Creator,” Catarina jests, chuckling. She begins walking away.

But there remains something gnawing still at the back of Sharon’s throat, questions after questions threaded together by an emotion she’s grown to become familiar with over the course of creation, one that treads so closely with love.

Fear.

“Is that… it?”

Catarina stops. She turns back to her, eyes blank.

“You won’t tell me anything else?” Sharon asks timidly.

A smile pokes at the corner of Catarina’s lips. “The truth is, Sharon, it’s all up to you. But with everything said, you must be smart enough to know what the best course of action is.” 

She turns around again, walking back into the fields of green. Sharon watches the flowers around the angel shift, painting everything around her in shades of white. She recognizes its kind—if she’s not wrong, they must be willows.

“Unless,” Catarina mutters, “you’d still want to learn it the hard way.”

(Sharon hears this, understanding the weight behind each word. Sharon also likes to think she’s smart enough—old enough, really, to know what’s right.

But the next day, she receives a message in the mobile phone she’d decided to obtain a few weeks ago, and she meets Nayeon again in a Subway, and they laugh together well after their hour long meeting was meant to be over.)

†

“Why are we here?” Sharon chuckles as she inhales the scent, the air the flowers breathe, tainted thinly with the scent of morning dew. Her eyes take in the dots of colors around her, lining the bank, the path, and almost everything in sight.

The garden sanctuaries in the heavens may be beautiful, yes, but earthly gardens weren’t bad either. She wonders vaguely if Catarina has been in this one before even, if she’d taken some inspiration from the beauty that is within sight.

Nayeon stops in front of her, grinning. She slips out a cup of coffee from the cardboard holder and hands it to Sharon.

“It’s a weekend—a free day, and I wanted to hang out with you.  _ And _ , I’ve always wanted to come back here,” she says excitedly. “The last time I’ve been here was when I was a kid.”

Sharon nods, her lips popping open into an ‘o’. “It’s beautiful.”

“Right?” Nayeon chuckles, turning around then and walking. Sharon follows after, a few steps behind; though, the other woman slows her pace a little so they could walk side by side.

Though Sharon likes to keep her gaze on the path, her eyes are naturally drawn to the flora that skirt along its edges, the blades of grass jutting out from the dirt. The air is still here, and even the light laughter and chatter of the nearby patrons seem so distant, just like the chirping of the birds. All she hears is the rustle of leaves, the water trickling down the rocks, all she feels is the warmth of the morning sun kissing her skin. It’s much like Catarina’s sanctuary, but it’s also not.

Nayeon watches her breathe it all in. Watches the small smile form on her lips. And then, she smiles too.

“What’s your favorite flower, Mina?”

The angel’s gaze flickers in her direction. “My favorite…?”

Nayeon nods. Her eyes are prodding.

Sharon thinks for a few moments. Truth be told, she’s seen so many in her entire life she’s not quite sure.

But there is one—

“I like… lilies,” she says after a while, blinking a little. Then, she nods, as if confirming it. “Lilies, yes. They must be my favorite.”

“That took you a while,” Nayeon chuckles. “Can I ask why?”

Sharon hums. Her gaze moves to the small stones at her feet, the cracks that split the asphalt, the imperfections. She smiles faintly, recalling a memory of long past.

It was raining then, the mud that soaked her bare feet, her knees, and her palms had been cold, wet. She’d worn nothing but a torn robe, and she was alone, in an empty alley between two straw houses.

Until a little girl stood in front of her, offering her nothing but a white lily.

“When I was younger, I was alone, for the most part,” she says. “It was lonely… to say the least. But, a little girl came over to me once, when I was—er,  _ alone _ and playing in a playground, and she gave me a white flower. It was a lily. It made me feel better.”

It may have been nothing much, but she knows it is a memory that will stay with her for all the days of her life. It was the first human to have shown her kindness, her first flower, and the first time she’d grasped the words that had been pulsating in her head over and over during those days.

Nayeon blinks back in surprise. “I—that’s, er,  _ a lot  _ to take in. But… at least you made a friend, right?”

Sharon sighs. “Not exactly.”

Maybe they would have been, had it not been for the circumstances of that time.

It was the first time she’d felt such a dark emotion, when she’d watched a spear pass through that little girl as if she had been nothing.

“It’s funny,” Nayeon starts, bringing Sharon back to the present, “the reasons behind my flower preferences don’t run that deep.”

“What’s yours then?” Sharon shakes away the memories, turning to the woman beside her and smiling.

“Well,” Nayeon turns for a moment as they walk the steps up into the pavilion overlooking the clear lake. “I like heliotropes, because they’re purple, and I like purple. Also, the name’s pretty.”

They stop by its railings, turning their attention momentarily to the lake that surrounds them, the patrons walking through the path.

“I’m not going to judge you for that,” Sharon chuckles. “For what it’s worth, I like heliotropes too. They’re quite pretty.” She takes a sip of the coffee, sighing.

“Like it?” Nayeon watches her curiously.

“It’s good,” Sharon nods, looking at her.

Nayeon’s lips quirk up into a half smile. “So, you like Americanos.”

“Is that what it’s called?” the angel chuckles smoothly, setting the cup down. She leans against the baluster, resting her arm along its railing. “People make up such strange names for caffeine sometimes.”

“Would you have preferred it to be called  _ Minaricano _ ?”

Sharon gapes at her, laughing before she playfully bumps Nayeon. “That was terrible.”

“Mina, you laughed, and I consider that a win for me.”

Their shared laughter is soft, carried away by the breeze that drifts through. The days they spend together have lessened with the passage of time, but Nayeon always finds the time to meet at least once a week. She tells her about a new project she’s working on, one she’s overseeing, about how busy the days are getting. About how this could spell her comeback as the rightful successor in the company.

“Still, I’m trying my best to hang out with you,” Nayeon beams at her, leaning back against the railing.

Sharon smiles. She thinks this is one of the things she likes about Im Nayeon, a little factor that convinces her to stay. Her tenacity, and the way she’s always so insistent in their friendship.

The way she never seems to want to let go of her.

But as she stares at her face, the smile slowly falls. It’s always confused her, as well, the way the other woman acts when it comes to her.

“Why, though?” she asks.

Nayeon snorts. “Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I mean, don’t you have… er, other friends?” Sharon asks slowly.

It takes Nayeon aback, and she starts chuckling. The surprise remains on her face for the better part of the minute, until she finally clears her throat, and Sharon swallows thickly at the way her gaze suddenly softens.

“I do,” the human says sincerely. “But I chose to find you, still.”

Sharon’s fingers curl around the railing. There’s something heavy bearing down on her chest, and it takes effort to heave out the words again. “But… why?”

“That’s because,” Nayeon turns to face her fully, and Sharon can see her gaze turn weighted, yet all at the same time, soften. “I like you, Mina.”

Sharon looks away.

“You’re different from me, but you still chose to accompany me,” Nayeon looks away then, but the smile remains on her lips. “I meant it when I said I’m glad to have you as a friend, Mina.”

There it is again. This feeling.  _ What is it? _

Mina looks away, to the lake below, to the schools of fish swimming close to the surface. To the insects and dirt particles that ripple across its surface, the stray leaves drifting about. To the flower beds beyond, to the flora lining the stone paths.

Just anything, really—anything but the way Nayeon is looking at her.

But then—

“Mina, look! Look at those fishes! Aren’t they so cute?”

And then there’s her voice, gentle but excited, colored with a gladness Mina’s felt is reserved only for their little meetings. There’s her bunny-toothed smile, and Mina does like to look at her smile, especially in the way it brightens when she smiles back. And then Mina’s name—her name, playing on her lips, like a songbird’s sweet melody, and—

_ Her name? _

No. Not her name. Not  _ Mina _ . Her name is  _ Sharon _ . Her name is—

Her eyes are like the sun. They always have been—she’s thought this, ever since they’d met centuries ago. And they’re the first thing she sees when she turns to the lake, because she finds her amber eyes instead. She sees her fiery orange hair fluttering in the breeze, highlighted by the rays of sunlight overhead.

_ Her name is— _

From the other side of the embankment, Sana stares at her blankly, her face partially concealed by a black face mask. It’s the first time she’s seen her in human clothing.

The demon’s gaze flickers between her and her companion, before she turns and walks away, and the angel can only stare helplessly.

A voice that is not her own echoes over and over in her head.

Mina. Mina?  _ Mina! _

_ Her name— _

_ “Your name has to be it. It has to be—” _

“Mina?”

The angel looks to Nayeon, wide-eyed and breathless. The woman’s brows are creased, and she has a hand outstretched.

_ Nayeon _ . Her eyes are always twinkling, always so warm and gentle, whenever she looks at her. Nayeon—with her pursed lips, her clenched jaw, her tense shoulders—what does the language of the body spell out? What does it spell out for  _ her _ ?

She remembers the first time seeing her, the fear that had gripped her then.

She feels her heart seize with the same fear, feels her chest bear the weight of Nayeon’s gaze.

“Mina, you look kind of dazed,” Nayeon tries to joke.

Mina. Mina.  _ Mina _ .

_ Her name— _

On the breath of Nayeon’s lips, the name is a hummingbird’s melody.

(It’s what she fears the most.)

†

When they finish their stroll for the day, Nayeon hugs her goodbye, and Sharon is the first to pull away.

She doesn’t look at her as she bids her farewell, doesn’t see the hurt flash across her face, doesn’t see the way her gaze lingers when she leaves.

(Maybe she doesn’t want to.)

†

Catarina is silent today, staring up at the dark expanse of space beyond the sanctuary. Contemplative. Her brows knitted together as if a million thoughts are running through her mind—and they must be, Sharon thinks, and perhaps not even thoughts.

Is she calculating probabilities in her head? Is she watching every possibility play out in film reels?

In this endlessly green garden, the two angels lay together amongst the foliage, surrounded by zinnias, looking up at the twinkling stars in the darkness above.

“Will you call me by my name?”

Sharon blinks. She turns her head towards her, shifting just a little closer.

“ _ What? _ ”

“My name—you still remember it, don’t you?” Catarina turns momentarily to her, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Will you say it?”

Sharon stares blankly at her, a million questions in mind fighting to break through the surface. She settles for a single one instead, asking, “Why?”

“Perhaps I’m nostalgic,” Catarina jests.

“Are you serious?” Sharon laughs.

The angel merely smiles. “Maybe.”

“Alright then,” Sharon props herself up on an elbow, turning her body towards her. “Catarina?”

“Oh, you’re terrible,” Catarina chuckles, closing her eyes.

Sharon grins at the angel’s reaction, but it is a smile that quickly falters after. As she observes the other shift in her place, angling her face away from her, she feels her heart slowly sink away to a hollow pit below.

“What’s on your mind,” she breathes out, “ _ Chaeyoung? _ ”

The angel’s eyes flutter open, her gaze flitting to the skies above. “As I thought, it does feel different now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t know either,” Catarina sighs as she sits up. She stares in wonder at the stars. “Just… that it sounds different. When  _ you _ say it. Now and…  _ before _ .”

“It feels foreign, even to me,” Sharon whispers. “Even my own name, I—” she closes her eyes, swallows thickly. “It’s strange.”

Catarina turns to her, gaze guarded but strangely curious. “What’s on your mind, Sharon?”

_ Sharon _ .

Lately, she’s been getting used to a different one.

She wonders—

The angel looks up, and Catarina feels her own heart shift uncomfortably when she sees the way Sharon looks at her. There’s a question, deep in the darkness of her eyes, a strange longing for something unnamable. Sharon feels it dawn on her slowly, just as a star would dip into the horizon in the coming of darkness.

She leans closer. “Catarina,” she says, her tone unintentionally pleading, “ _ Chaeyoung _ , will—will you call me—?”

_ “There you are!” _

Sharon reels back, and Catarina turns her head around, smiling at the approaching newcomer.

“Jihyo,” she grins in a perfect charade. “Is that what you’re called right now? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Should it matter?” the angel—Jihyo—huffs, stopping just beside her. She’s a lot less intimidating in human clothing—a gray suit no less, much like the color of her eyes. Her gaze falls on Sharon. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Sharon stares absently at her before she flushes. “Oh, I’m—” she glances at Catarina. “I’m sorry. Was I gone too long?”

“No—no, I—” Jihyo sighs in defeat. “No, I just needed you for a small task.”

“Oh?”

“You’re familiar with the human Im Nayeon, aren’t you?”

Sharon feels the cold seep in through her fingers in a split second. “I—what?”

Jihyo furrows her brows. “The others tell me they see you two frequently together. I just assumed it’s because you were assigned to watch over her since she’s been accumulating some sort of celestial energy recently.”

“She… is?” Sharon swallows thickly, glancing once at Catarina.

Jihyo narrows her eyes. “Unless… that wasn’t the reason why you—”

“It is.”

Catarina’s voice grabs their attention. Strangely calm and firm now, the angel stands and brushes off the superficial bits of dirt and grass along her white robe.

“I asked her of that little favor,” she says, pouting. “I hope it’s okay.”

Jihyo blinks. “Of course. I’m not really in any place to—well, say anything.”

Catarina smiles. Sharon shifts uncomfortably.

“What—what do you need me for?” her question feels so faraway.

“Just… come with me?” Jihyo smiles encouragingly, already ready to turn back.

Sharon sighs, but she stands, nonetheless, following closely after. But as she passes Catarina, she feels fingers circle her wrist.

She looks back, surprised to find the smile faded from Catarina’s lips, replaced instead by a faint frown. The look in her eyes is grave, a warning, a reminder that needs not be said.

Then, her lips open, forming a single word—no, a  _ name _ .

Sharon looks away, pulling herself free from her grasp.

  
  


†

The Imcho Corp.’s building has always been tall and imposing, its simple geometry counterbalanced by the minimal curves along its facade painted a clear sign of its modernist roots. It is mainly an ivory building, countered only by black tinted glass windows. Beautiful, but lifeless. Haunting.

Underneath its shadow, Sharon wonders if it’s for this reason Nayeon never stays too close to it, why she always likes to keep her distance.

“Jeongyeon informed me recently there’s been an increase in celestial energy deep within the building over the past few months,” Jihyo says, huffing, eyes sweeping over the large expanse of glass on the building’s facade in mild disinterest.

“ _ Jeongyeon _ ?” Sharon raises a brow.

“Oh, that’s the name she’s going by while she’s here—what’s her real name, was it—” Jihyo whispers a name to her in a language only they can hear, and it suddenly clicks.

“Ah.”

“You seem to be quite familiar with Im Nayeon already, so you must know by now who she is?” Jihyo casts a glance in her direction.

“Of course,” Sharon admits. “She’s next in line to the CEO’s position.”

“She’s also one of the senior staff in their research department,” Jihyo points out. “Her high position and familial connections grant her access to a myriad of the company’s inside information—for example, its staff.”

“What are you implying?” Sharon narrows her eyes.

“That there is something—or,  _ someone _ —in there that should not be there,” Jihyo huffs, turning to face her fully. “And Nayeon would have the information to obtain it.”

“So, you want me to use her?” Sharon fails to hide the bitterness dripping off her own tongue.

Jihyo narrows her eyes. “We’re not  _ using  _ her. We’re letting her  _ help  _ us obtain what we want—no,  _ need. _ Don’t act as if you have not done it before. We’re meant to love them, yes, but we must also ensure that none of our world leaks visibly into theirs.”

Sharon looks away, defeated.

“Shouldn’t you already know what and where it is?” she argues. “Aren’t there others looking into this?”

“Alas,” Jihyo sighs, crossing her arms, “I am but a lowly servant who knows nothing but to maintain the balance between this world and the next. I know more than most, maybe even  _ you _ , but not  _ everything _ . God does not spoon-feed us. We’re not exactly all that different from the crowds walking around us, after all.

“Until we know what we’re dealing with—whether it be a demon, a rogue, or something else—then we would not be able to know where to locate it, even,” she finishes, shaking her head. “And unfortunately for you, you’re the perfect one for the task, given the… circumstances.”

_ Circumstances _ . Of course.

Sharon looks away, to the building, counting the levels slowly. Her gaze stops at the ninth. She remembers the first time she’d been there, when she’d cleared Nayeon’s head of her racing dreams, when the woman had woken up briefly and stared at her with the depth of the universe in her eyes. That must have been a year ago now.

They had not even known each other then.

“And if I find whatever it is,” Sharon mutters, “What do I do then?”

“If it’s obtainable, take it,” Jihyo says. “And if it’s not, if it’s  _ possible _ —destroy it.”

There’s not a hint of humor in her voice. Her tone always strangely stern, but gentle. Sharon sighs and lets her gaze drift to a nearby café.

†

Like most highrises, the lobby is filled with a vast expanse of open space. She can see her own faded reflection on the marble floors, just one amongst the many loitering about. The ceiling must have been at least two storeys high—and with the magnitude of everything, she isn’t surprised to find a large marble column right at the center of the space.

Everything is simply too excessive, and as she walks inside, even amongst the number of people there, she feels empty in this place.

The receptionist looks up when she nears her, flashing a manufactured smile.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

“Good morning,” Sharon smiles. “Is Im Nayeon around?”

“Im Nayeon?” the receptionist barely manages to mask her surprise. “Do you have an appointment?”

Sharon smiles tightly. “I’m a friend of hers. I’d just like to give her some coffee?”

She sees the woman’s smile twitch slightly. “Well, then—I’d like to ask for your name, please?”

“Oh, my name,” Sharon blinks. “It’s Mina.”

“Family name?”

Sharon swallows. Nayeon had never questioned her lack of a last name. “M—Mo—” she glances around, catching an ID tag of a nearby worker. “Myoui.”

“Myoui Mina?”

“Yes.”

The receptionist inputs it quickly on her computer, furrowing her brows at the screen after. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t seem as if you’ve had any past history with Im Nayeon, or with the company in the first—”

_ “Mina?” _

The relief washes over the angel like a cold tide on a hot day. She beams before she even sees her, turning to the voice.

However, her smile quickly falters when she sees the frown on Nayeon’s face.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Nayeon explains to the receptionist, her tone robotic—foreign to Sharon’s ears. A tinge of red colors her voice, and it’s for this reason the other woman quickly shrinks away.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Nayeon flashes a quick smile before she turns to Sharon, her gaze softening. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Sharon repeats absentmindedly, looking momentarily away. It’s a bit much. “Coffee?” She raises the cup holder.

“I’ve had my morning coffee already.”

“Oh,” Sharon deflates, realizing slowly how much of a disaster this whole situation is becoming.  _ Jihyo would be disappointed. _

Nayeon cocks her head to the side. “But... I’m down for another, I guess? It’s been a few hours since my first, so this should be fine. Let’s head to my office.”

Sharon blinks back in surprise, though she releases a breath of relief. “I—Is it… alright?”

“Of course.” Nayeon smiles. “It’s coffee with  _ you _ , after all.”

She turns around before the angel can respond, walking towards the elevator in quick but languid strides. And Sharon can only stare helplessly, cheeks tinted with the color of red roses.

The elevator is strangely empty when they enter, and Sharon makes sure to stand at the other end of the small space when the doors close. However, in this isolation, a thick silence begins to envelop the atmosphere around them.

Sharon shuffles uncomfortably in her place, still not used to this side of Nayeon, especially in this environment. She was always the first to break the silence, but this time, she’s unmoving, with her side pressed against the wall, head leaning on it.

What is she thinking?

What can she say?

“I thought you’d be in your office,” Sharon blurts out before she can hesitate.

Nayeon blinks out of her stupor, turning to face her. “I had something to take care of downstairs.” She raises a few folders up. “Would you mind if we stop by the fifth floor for a bit? I need to drop these off.”

“Not at all, if you don’t mind...  _ me _ either,” Sharon says sheepishly.

Nayeon smiles. “Why would I?”

Sharon shrinks in on herself on her own side of the elevator, biting the pain of a hammering heartbeat away.

These days, she’s been understanding herself less and less.

The doors slide open, and they find themselves entering an open workspace. Employees in neatly pressed business suits mill about the area, some ducked low inside their respective cubicles working away on their computers. There are other rooms in the area, adjacent to a nearby meeting room with translucent partitions.

Nayeon turns to her. “Mind waiting here?”

Sharon shakes her head, leaning against a column. The woman flashes her a gentle smile before walking away to a closed room. The angel sighs.

What’s wrong with her?

She’s supposed to be here on a mission, but—

What is Nayeon thinking?

Why is it itching at her mind? Why does she want to know?

She shakes her head, clears it away. She’s here for a task—nothing more. Her eyes sweep over the room, observing the people, the objects, the conversations.

This space is filled mostly with muted colors—whitewashed walls against whitewashed ceilings and tiled floors, black tufts of hair against grey suits and grey ties. There’s the occasional brown suits, shades of hair, and then the bits of color in the clutter of each cubicle.

It’s rather devoid of life—she supposes it makes it easier to find what does not belong.

After all, there  _ is  _ something here. Vague and distant. She’s never been good at sensing these things—she’s too young, really, but there’s a hollow buzz deep inside her chest, a distant calling of something.  _ Someone? _

Some—

In this muted space, she catches a glimpse of orange passing by the cubicles. She feels her heart jump.

Her feet move before she can stop them. Her hand reaches out, grabs at the wrist. The woman whirls around.

Sana’s eyes are wide when her gaze meets hers. Sharon feels the breath drained out of her.

“What are you doing here?” the angel hisses under her breath.

The demon blinks in surprise, though she does not pull away. “You found me.”

“‘ _ I found you?’  _ What are you planning? Did they send you here after her?” Sharon presses on, her grip tightening.

Sana chuckles humorlessly. “It’s not exactly any of your business, is it?”

“It becomes my business when you—”

“—when I  _ what? _ ” Sana narrows her eyes. “Hurt your little human friend?”

Sharon swallows thickly. She does not let go.

Sana’s gaze softens. “I’m not going to. You need to calm down.”

Sharon loosens her hold on her. “You need to leave.” She looks away. “The others—they can sense your presence.”

“My—?” Sana looks at her incredulously. “Did they send you here to clear up ‘bad energy’ or whatever they call it?”

“That’s—that should not be the issue here,” Sharon huffs as she steps back. “ _ You’re _ here, which has to mean…”

Sana moves closer, glancing around again. “What?”

“It has to mean  _ something. _ ”

There’s a beat of silence between them. Sharon, with her arms crossed, shoulders tucked, head low. And Sana, eyes narrowed, as she watches her carefully.

“You’re… not acting reasonably,” she remarks. “Are you…  _ afraid _ ?”

Sharon’s eyes shoot up. Their gazes meet, dark against amber, crossed in a silent battle.

Sana steps closer. “What are you afraid of,  _ Mina? _ ”

“I’m… I’m not  _ afraid _ ,” Sharon looks away, stepping back. “I have a task to fulfill. They asked me to—to make sure that whatever it is that does not belong is gone. And  _ you _ —” she blinks, turning back to the demon. “ _ You’re here. _ ”

Sana smiles, tilting her head to the side. “I suppose I  _ am _ a bit too colorful for this environment.”

“Sana.”

The smile begins to fade away. “Mina, you—”

“It’s  _ Sharon _ ,” Mina narrows her eyes.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Sana presses on. The light of humor no longer found in her amber eyes, replaced instead with the dull embers of a newborn fire, spelling out an indecipherable message.

_ What _ —

“Mina?”

Sharon blinks again, breaks her gaze away from Sana’s as she turns to the owner of this voice. Nayeon approaches, brows knit together in confusion. Her gaze flickers between them two.

“You two must be acquainted,” she says.

“You—” Sharon gapes. “You see—er, you know each other?”

“She works in the marketing department,” Nayeon chuckles. “Of course I know her. And you two?”

“We’re ju—”

“We’re old high school friends,” Sana interjects.

Nayeon’s brows shoot up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have been disturbing.”

“Not at all, Ms. Im,” Sana titters, stepping back. “I’m sure it must have been me disturbing you two. I hear you’re acquainted, as well?”

“We’re—” Nayeon catches Sharon’s gaze, hesitating just for a second too long.

Every second, every moment bears with it an underlying meaning, a language Sharon still has yet to decipher. And out of the thousands she’s grown to adapt over the centuries, in Nayeon’s eyes is a question spelled out in a language she chooses not to understand.

So, she tears her gaze away, turns to the demon’s prodding eyes.

“We’re friends,” the angel finishes.

“I’m sure,” Sana smiles easily, bowing to them two. “Excuse me.”

Sharon stares after her, gaze never leaving her retreating figure until she finally disappears into a corner. And now, she’s left alone with Nayeon, in a crowded workspace.

She feels warm fingers encircle her wrist.

“Let’s go?”

Her voice is always so soft when speaking to her, and Sharon can only melt with each syllable.

“We…  _ are _ friends, aren’t we?” Sharon asks when they step in the elevator.

Nayeon glances at her first before she presses the button for the ninth floor. “Of course. What else could we be?”

“You’ve been asking too many rhetoricals,” Sharon jests, though her laughter after is hollow.

“Have I?” Nayeon snorts.

“There it is again.”

“Sorry,” Nayeon giggles, shaking her head. “I guess there’s just been… a few things on my mind lately.”

From the other side of the carriage, Sharon turns to face her fully, tilting her head to the side in query. “What’s on your mind?”

Nayeon looks at her. The smile never leaves her lips. “What were you guys talking about?”

Sharon pretends not to notice her unsubtle deflection. “Oh… nothing much. Business things?”

“‘Business things’,” Nayeon snorts. 

“How long has she been working here?” Sharon asks, her tone much more serious than she intended.

Nayeon hums. “Maybe a few months ago? Around the time I started on that project I told you about.”

“Your memories somehow always revolve around this ‘big project’,” Sharon smiles fondly.

Nayeon beams, her face lighting up with bubbling excitement. “How could they not? It’s going to be my big break; I can feel it.”

The elevator doors slide open, and Sharon can’t help but breathe out in relief as they step out. She can’t help but notice Nayeon’s own heaved out sigh—she supposes there  _ was  _ a tightness to the elevator ride. The air perhaps a bit too suffocating. So, when Nayeon’s shoulders loosen up, when her gestures begin to grow animated, Sharon feels her smile widen.

“Just a few days ago, we snagged this deal with a very high-profile overseas organization to fund this project—I mean,  _ my  _ project. I just—” Nayeon turns momentarily to her, eyes sparkling. “I just can’t help but feel this is my moment, you know? I’m scared of messing up, but I’m also so,  _ so _ …  _ excited _ .”

Sharon takes her hand in both of hers, rubbing it in reassurance. “Whatever it is, I’ll support you.”

Nayeon’s lips break out into a grin. She squeezes the angel’s hand. “Thank you, Mina.”

Mina smiles back, painfully. There are stars bouncing off in the darkness of Nayeon’s eyes, shining in a way that somehow feels reserved for her.  _ For her? _ For—

_ God _ . She needs to stop looking at her like that.

It’s just like the first time.

Mina— _ no, Sharon  _ looks away. “Can I ask something of you?”

“Anything,” Nayeon chuckles, turning away and walking again.

It takes a few moments for Sharon to follow after. “It’s about… Sana.”

“Minatozaki? Well, if it’s a promotion you’re going to be asking for in her favor, I don’t have much say. But I could def—”

“No, that’s not it,” Sharon quickly interjects, taking a few quick strides forward so they could walk side-by-side.

Nayeon’s pace slows. “Oh. Then, what is it?”

Sharon could do this in one or two ways. The much more superfluous method would be to cast the entire building to sleep, have Jihyo call for another to erase the occupants’ memories of Sana, and then force Sana out one way or another.

She opts for the more feasible method.

“I wanted to know what her reason was for working here,” Sharon starts.

Nayeon hums. “I mean  _ I  _ personally wouldn’t know, but the HR department would have a file on that. I’m sure I can look it up since it shouldn’t be anything confidential. Why, though?”

Sharon swallows thickly. “It’s—there might be some things about her that—well, you might not know about? Things that may be—er—”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Well—”

“Ms. Im?”

Nayeon stops suddenly, shoulders visibly tensing. When Sharon turns, she finds a tall brunette standing behind them, beside an open office, dressed in a white blouse and a long, olive skirt. Hair tucked into a neat ponytail. Posture impeccable.

“Your father wanted me to pass this on to you,” the young woman says in a dull monotone, raising a few folders in hand.

Nayeon responds with the same neutrality, turning with the same blank expression and taking the proffered items. “Thank you, Ms. Chou. Good job again today.”

“Thank you,” the young woman bows, before she turns and steps back into the office. Not even sparing Sharon a single glance.

Nayeon’s already walking away before the angel can gather her bearings.

“Nayeon?”

The woman glances at her briefly, before turning to the corner leading to her own office. “Hm?”

“Who was that?”

“Just… the daughter of a close family friend,” Nayeon smiles tightly. The silence following after feels strangely heavy, like a punctuation to a weighted sentence.

So, the angel quietly follows along, not saying another word.

However, she can’t help but breathe out in wonder as she steps inside Nayeon’s office. It’s been a long time since she’s last been here, but everything feels the same. There’s that couch set, set off to one corner, near a bookshelf suspended above a small table. Display shelves on the other side, filled with little miscellaneous trinkets—trophies, figurines, a glass jar and globe. Diplomas and printed achievements framed and set against an empty wall.

And a single, large mahogany desk in the middle, upon which is the nameplate, with the name  _ Im Nayeon  _ engraved onto it.

Back then, she’d come here unsolicited, unbeknownst to the sleeping human.

Yet, both times, it’s still rooted in the same purpose.

A request from the heavens.

She uses her free hand to rub at the sleeves of her wool coat in a vain effort to fight the prickling guilt.

“Oh, you can set that down right there. Feel free to take a seat,” Nayeon gestures to the couch and coffee table set off on one side of the office.

The angel obediently follows, watching the other woman walk around her desk, clicking her computer on. She glances up briefly, meeting her gaze. She smiles.

“Just a sec.”

Sharon nods. Settles into the couch. Brushing her fingers along its smooth contours, feels the cold left by the air conditioning unit seep in through her fingertips.

It’s soft beneath her touch. Cotton, unlike the common leather found in most executive offices. It’s reassuring, she supposes, that if Nayeon chooses to sleep on it, she’d be sleeping well.

A memory flashes across her mind. Wet eyes glistening in the darkness of midnight. The warmth of her skin as she caressed her temples.

She withdraws her fingers.

Her thoughts can be a tad bit strange.

She looks away, unpacks the coffee cups instead. As she sets the two down, something deep within the shelf catches her eye. A brief flash. Like diamond glinting against sunlight—a snow globe—?

There’s a hollow buzz resonating deep within her ribcage.

_ Something— _

“‘I took an interest in this company because I looked up to the mission it had set out to do,’” Nayeon blurts out suddenly, eyes flickering as she reads the screen, “‘in that it wanted to take technology beyond the boundaries set by humanity, while still catering to the needs of humans. Furthermore, I have also found the core essence of this company something worth protecting.’”

Sharon blinks, looks at her quizzically.

“An excerpt,” Nayeon says, rising from her position, “from Minatozaki Sana’s interview.”

“Oh.”

_ What’s it supposed to mean? _

Nayeon lets out a breathless chuckle as she saunters towards Sharon. “A lot of new recruits like to talk about our mission and vision during the interview, and even your friend seems to have followed suit. But really, do you want to hear the real reasons why they choose to apply?”

Sharon cocks her head to the side. The mischievous smirk on Nayeon’s lips is nothing short of endearing, and she can’t help the smile that grips her own lips.

“What is it?”

Nayeon falls to sit beside her, excitedly taking her own cup of coffee. Her lips pressed together and cheeks bunched up as if she’s about to spill all the secrets the universe has to offer.

“Money.”

Sharon snorts. “I mean, people  _ do _ work for money.”

“ _ Big  _ money, and that’s not all,” Nayeon shuffles closer, taking a quick sip of the coffee. “It’s also because our company has ties to big-name companies outside of Korea.” Her voice falls to a whisper, as she scrunches her nose. “We supply parts to them. And if someone works here, their chances of getting hired abroad increase significantly.”

Sharon giggles as she moves just an inch closer, whispering, “Isn’t this confidential?”

“I’m not dropping names anyway,” Nayeon sips her coffee again. “Besides, you could find the same information with a five-minute internet search.”

“Then, why are we whispering?” Sharon smiles.

“Because,” Nayeon’s eyes twinkle, gaze flickering between the angel’s eyes. “ _ Mina _ , you’re so close.”

There’s a heart in the curve of Nayeon’s lips. Plump, a glossy red sheen across its surface.

She’d told her once she liked to use cherry lip balms.

She wonders vaguely if it’s the coffee or cherries that’ll come through.

Just one touch—

_ One _ —

They’re so close.

Mina clears her throat, turning her face away and taking a cup for herself. Nayeon settles back into her position, resting against the armrest. Eyes curious, trailing over the angel’s face.

Mina pretends not to notice as she sips on her own coffee. She’s been pretending to do just that a lot lately.

“Mina?”

The angel looks up.

“You’re so pretty,” Nayeon says with a lazy smile.

Beauty has never been an angel’s choice—it’s more of a necessity. A thick facade hiding everything underneath.

Still, Nayeon’s words are laced with the warmth of coffees and sunrises, and Mina hides her blush behind her cup.

“I wish I got you onboard on the project,” Nayeon mutters. “Instead of Ms. Chou. Then at least I’d get to see you every day instead of her.”

“Ms. Chou…” Mina rubs the rim of her cup. “Is she one of them? A ‘competitor’?”

Nayeon chuckles humorlessly. “The only one that probably stands a chance, really. Imcho started as a partnership. And Tzuyu is the granddaughter of my grandfather’s partner back then.”

Mina nods thoughtfully. “Do you… despise her?”

“No, of course not,” Nayeon tells her, “Tzuyu and I were childhood friends before we became competing successors. It’s just—” she sighs, straightens herself. “She’s just so…  _ perfect _ ? Every time I see her, I get reminded of a lot of the things I lack. I don’t blame her. Her training was much more grueling than mine.

“Maybe I envy her,” she ponders, turning to Mina with wide eyes.

The angel smiles slowly, takes her hand in hers, gives it a light squeeze.

“The thing with hu—people is that,” she starts, “they’re all different and unique in their own ways. What you have now may be traits even Ms. Chou finds herself lacking in. No two humans are the same. We’re not perfect, no matter how hard we try to be.

“The important thing is that you stay true to yourself, that you never lose sight of yourself, given the circumstances,” Mina finishes, meaning every word. “In imperfection, you’re already perfect the way you are, right here, right now.”

The silence after feels heavier than it should. Nayeon stares at her as if she’s just been hit with the biggest revelation.

And then there it is again—this strange look in Im Nayeon's eyes. An indecipherable question brimming beneath the light flecks of gray in her irises. In the pools of darkness in her pupils Mina could forever drown into if she wanted.

"Mina," Nayeon's voice is breathless. "Can we talk?"

The angel looks away. She swears she can see a light dusting of pink across Nayeon's cheeks.

"We  _ are _ talking," Mina tries.

"No. Not like—not like  _ this _ ," Nayeon inches closer. "I want to talk about—about  _ us. _ "

Mina swallows thickly. "What’s there to talk about?"

Her thoughts are getting murkier. Endless streams of words and letters and languages strung together holding a lost meaning, clouding her insides. Quiet screams pounding over and over and—

_ What was she here for again? _

(There's a dull buzzing from deep within her chest. Crawling up her spine.)

"Mina," Nayeon takes her hand, sets her own cup down with the other. She encloses the angel’s free hand with both of her own.

_ It's so warm. _

_ It's so soft. _

"I like you."

Mina feels the bite of ice seep in her toes, her fingertips. The air she's breathing thins out around her. Her insides hollow out from within.

"You’ve already told me," she croaks. “We  _ are  _ friends, after—”

"Not like that," Nayeon says. "I like you, Mina. I  _ really do. _ "

She shuffles closer. Mina doesn't meet her prodding gaze.

"I like you in a way that goes beyond friendship," Nayeon whispers gently, rubbing her thumb across Mina's cold knuckles. "And I’m scared to lose what we have now, but I like you so much—I just can’t hide it anymore.

"I want to keep seeing you. I want to make you happy," she tilts her head down, tries to meet Mina's downcast gaze. "Don't you get it?"

Mina's lips are pressed tightly together.

"I  _ like _ you,  _ Mina _ ."

Mina looks to the display shelf. Her chest is about to burst.

(Something is calling in a language that cannot be heard.)

"When you're silent like this," Nayeon's voice wavers. "When you won't look at me, I feel so scared. I—"

"Is this about that day at the park?" Mina shakes her head, tries her hardest to evade. "That wasn't your fault, okay? I wasn't feeling well."

"It’s not about that,” Nayeon almost pleads. “But I wanted to tell you that day. And maybe I did, but you mustn’t have understood. I was too afraid to tell you the truth. I was—”

Mina bites her bottom lip.

(There’s a gravity bearing down on her chest. An incessant buzzing she can no longer drown out.

_ The display _ —)

“But you’re here now,” Nayeon purses her lips, squeezes the angel’s hands. “And if I didn’t tell you now, I’d chicken out again.”

Mina can’t look her in the eye. She can’t—

“Mina, I like you.”

The weight of the universe lies deep within the darkness of her gray eyes. Even in the absence of light, why do they seem to glisten as she looks at her now?

The silence stretches on for a few seconds too long.

Nayeon’s hold loosens.

“It’s okay—even if you don’t feel the same way,” the human’s voice is soft and fragile, the confident tone she’d adapted fading. “I just needed to tell you. But if you don't feel the same way, I’m fine if we stay as friends.”

Her chuckle after feels empty. She’s the one who looks away now.

“Really.”

Mina inches closer. “Nayeon, no—that’s—”

Nayeon’s gaze flickers back up to meet hers. Her eyes are…

_ Twinkling? _

There’s a buzzing deep within her insides. Prickling at her spine, her shoulder blades.

_ The display case _ —

On the display case is a glass jar nestled between glass figurines and a glass globe. And inside that glass jar—

Is something glowing ethereally white.

“That’s—” Mina trails off as she rises from her seat.

In a language that cannot be heard, that cannot be deciphered, the light sings for her.

Her name—

_ Mina _ —

“Mina?” Nayeon turns around to her, eyes narrowed quizzically. They watch her carefully as she slowly makes her way to the shelf.

There’s a ringing deep inside the angel’s eardrums. Like a pulsating heartbeat, moving in rhythm with each footstep. She feels every breath that leaves her body—she doesn’t feel herself inhale.

She brushes her fingertips along the cold surface of the glass before she takes it. And only when her hands encircle its entirety does she feel the heat emanating from inside.

There’s a single white feather lying within. Glowing dimly.

_ Something that should not be here. _

Her head is throbbing. The ringing is a deafening screech now. There’s a spike of pain striking at her spine, her shoulder blades.

On that night, more than a year ago.

She’d unfurled her wings.

She never looked back.

_ Humans can be deceptive _ —

Catarina’s voice echoes like a broken record, deep within her head. A hollow drone that dies out and rises back up, like the tides of the ocean.

Always repeating the same words over and over—

That day in the sanctuary—

“I guess you found my 'treasured possession',” Nayeon mutters from behind her, approaching slowly. “I found it here one night. It’s not your average feather.

“It’s so much more,” she whispers, taking the jar from the angel’s hand.

“What do you mean…?” the angel heaves it out, and even then her voice comes out in a quiet, fragile whisper.

“It’s a secret, but,” Nayeon slowly smiles. “It’s a key component to my project. Everything lies on this small, seemingly insignificant feather.”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows after the revelation.

Nayeon sighs. “I can tell you more about it. But Mina, I think we should talk about—”

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

Nayeon’s eyes shoot up. “What?”

Sharon takes a step back. She doesn’t look at her. “Let’s stop seeing each other, Nayeon.”

She doesn’t spare the human another glance or word. And as the seconds tick by with nothing but the deafening silence, Sharon simply nods and turns around, walking out of the office in quick strides.

She doesn’t look back, doesn’t see the waves of anguish crash against Nayeon’s visage. Doesn’t see the way her mouth hesitates to move, her glistening eyes flicker.

She doesn’t hear her utter her name in a broken whisper.

†

The first place she goes to is Catarina’s garden sanctuary. This little home nestled in between everywhere and nowhere, between today and yesterday.

When Catarina meets her, she engulfs her in the tightest embrace, buries her face deep into her shoulders, choking every tear that threatens to spill away.

Nobody says anything. Nobody moves. But they stay like that for the longest time.

Here, alone in everywhere and nowhere.

†

_ “No one here would even know that I’m alone _

_ It’s quiet as if it’s someone that didn’t exist at all.” _

Time is frozen in the garden. The air is still and silent, the only sound piercing the atmosphere is Catarina's soft humming as she searches her memories for the old song. Her hand rests on Sharon’s arm, patting in a slow rhythm.

Her eyes are trained on the skies above. Wandering. As if the twinkling dots dusted across it can offer her the answers to the enigma of her overlapping memories.

How long has it been?

Sharon has been awfully quiet.

_ “The place where we go _ —ah, no— _ where we always go to have a _ —a… a _ , _ ” Catarina continues the song slowly. Brows knit together, as she struggles to recall each line.

On her lap, Sharon smiles faintly. “ _ The place where we always go to have a coffee, _ ” she opens her eyes, meets Catarina’s twinkling eyes. “ _ I’m here alone today. _ ”

Catarina’s hair is brown today. She misses this color on her. For a while now, the angel had been having too much fun with much too colorful pigments. This feels more familiar.

The angel above her smiles her cheeky way of smiling. “You finally spoke.”

Sharon sighs. “There’s just been a lot on my mind lately.”

“Oh yeah?” Catarina chuckles. “Well, my ears are always open.”

Sharon stares at her with a guarded gaze.

Truthfully, there's only really been one thing that's taken up her mind as of late. Every thought that floats around in the turbulent sea that makes up her mind is one that always somehow revolves around Im Nayeon. Jihyo. Sana. The feather.

_ The feather. _

Was everything fake then? Was Nayeon cast in a little spell by the magic of her own feather?

What was she trying to get out of befriending her?

And Catarina—

Would she have the answers she's looking for?

“How have… humans taken advantage of angels?”

Catarina blinks. “I’m quite surprised you’re asking this  _ now _ ."

Sharon furrows her brows, pushing herself up on her two elbows. "How do you mean?"

“I mean," Catarina waves her off, "It's not a common occurrence, mind you. It’s only happened once… every other century, at least?”

“That’s not a few,” Sharon chuckles.

Catarina smiles. “Oftentimes, it happens when an angel decides to adapt their earthly forms for much longer than necessary. On one instance, a group of rather confused humans tried to drain an angel of their blood in their human form, hoping drinking it would bring them eternal life or something along those lines.”

“What happened?”

Catarina meets her gaze. “They were cursed. Thrown into the fires of eternity right then and there. After all,” she plucks one flower amongst the yellows that surround Sharon. “It was a corruption of the bond humans and angels were meant to share.”

Sharon is quiet for a moment. “And what happened to the angel?”

“He’s gone now,” Catarina answers gravely, twirling the flower in her fingertips. “Cleansed. It was far too late for any means of salvation. The curse had already begun, after all.”

She raises the flower up to Sharon.

A yellow rose.

“And in another instance, an angel and human fell in love with each other,” her gaze moves from the flower to Sharon’s eyes. Dark and unreadable.

Sharon avoids her gaze.

“And what happened to them?” she whispers.

“They were happy, for a while,” Catarina answers, “and then God found them.”

There's a beat of silence. In the air is a question that needs not be said, spelled out in Sharon’s wide, glossy eyes.

“And the angel was given an ultimatum,” Catarina drops the flower. “Abandon his lover or live the rest of their days together with the curse.”

“And what did they choose?” Sharon whispers.

Catarina’s smile twitches. “Damnation.”

She turns to the stars again, humming the song to herself once more. Fingers plucking at the superficial threads of her silk dress. Beside her, Sharon stays silent. Her gaze kept on the yellows blooming around her.

(There are faint purples blooming along their undersides.

She pretends not to notice.)

“What would you choose,” Catarina breathes out, “Mina?”

Sharon exhales softly, turns her gaze to the skies, wondering. What is Catarina always staring at, here up above? The stars? The faint streams of superficial galaxies in the far distance? Is she beholding the world she’s painted for herself, the beauty of this sanctuary God had gifted her?

What is she thinking, right now, as she asks this question?

“You should already know the answer,” Sharon chuckles emptily.

And  _ she should. _

On the precipice between heaven and hell, as she screamed Sana’s name over and over—

When God called, she’d taken Catarina’s outstretched hand. Watched as Sana fell, holding the hand of another, her eyes burning with the fires of hell.

When God calls, His angels must always answer.

“Is the answer still the same, now and before?” Catarina whispers.

“Should it change?” Sharon turns to her.

Catarina tears her gaze away from the sky, meets hers. Her eyes are dark and unreadable.

“Will you call me  _ Chaeyoung _ from now on?” she says softly, shifting closer. “Please?”

Sharon stares at her with nothing to say. The only thought ringing in her head is the breath of a name. What’s in a name, really, to have their souls tied so closely to it? What’s in a name, but the memories it holds?

“ _ Chaeyoung _ ,” the angel breathes out. “Chaeyoung, what should I do?”

Chaeyoung’s gaze is weighted as it settles on her. There’s a spark of understanding between them. The angel presses a hand on the other’s chest.

“Whatever feels right for you,” Chaeyoung whispers, “ _ Mina. _ ”

It’s the loud hammering of every heartbeat that rings through Mina’s eardrums, drowning out the sounds of the incoming footfalls, the crunch of the foliage.

“ _ Sharon. _ ”

The two angels turn around. Mina shrinks under Jihyo’s hardened gaze.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the angel angrily bellows. “Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

Mina glances at Chaeyoung, eyes wide in panic. Time is murky in Chaeyoung’s sanctuary; days and hours overlap one another here in a never ending cycle as the angel moves the hourglass of eternity. How long has she spent hiding away in her garden?

“I’m sorry—”

“The task I’d asked of you—” Jihyo huffs. “You didn’t even finish it, did you? Do you realize how many others I’d had to send there to hunt down the demons you’d left behind?”

Mina’s hand curls around a fallen rose. “ _ Demons? _ ”

“ _ Demons! _ ” Jihyo throws her hands up in the air. “That place was swarming with them, and it still is. It’s clear to me you still have yet to remove the anomaly in that place.”

“Come on, Jihyo,” Chaeyoung interjects. “Cut her some slack; she’s still young. You wanted her to take on a few too many demons at this age?”

“Her task was simple. She was supposed to remove the one that did not belong,” Jihyo massages the bridge of her nose. “Instead, for some odd reason, those that ‘did not belong’ multiplied. Explain to me how that’s possible!”

“I’m sorry,” Mina’s soft voice wavers. “I’ll get on it—”

“No. Tell me,” Jihyo steps closer. “How is it that they multiplied? What did you find in there? Because  _ God  _ knows you would not leave that task unfinished without  _ some  _ explanation. You found it, didn’t you? The thing that did not belong?”

Mina swallows thickly. She keeps her gaze fixed on the yellow roses, praying Jihyo doesn’t see the purples growing alongside them.

“Jihyo, just sit and calm down, will you?” Chaeyoung sighs, throwing her head back. “It’s supposed to be quiet here—you’ll wake—”

“ _ No.  _ And you. Don’t act so innocent here either,” Jihyo turns her gaze to the angel, glowering. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you keeping me from entering this place either.”

Chaeyoung’s expression darkens. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Catarina, this is not the time—”

“It’s  _ Chaeyoung _ ,” the angel rises from her seat, turning to face Jihyo fully. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’re in  _ my  _ sanctuary, standing on  _ my  _ garden. We’re friends, Jihyo, I’m sure, but if you overstep your boundaries—”

She steps closer. Jihyo clenches her jaw, but says nothing in retaliation.

“—I won’t hesitate to  _ punish  _ you.”

“And when I tell the Creator about this misdemeanor,” Jihyo hisses, “you’d still be nothing against me.”

“And what would you tell Him?” Chaeyoung narrows her eyes.

“Well, for one—” Jihyo raises a brow. “You’ve taken that name back—isn’t that the name that treacherous demon gave you? The one who’d turned her back on Him?”

Chaeyoung’s gaze is cold. Dark, as the murky blackness the skies have turned into. The rot of anger burning deep inside of her, just as it has wilted the flowers around them. And Mina—

Mina is nowhere to be found.

As the yellow roses die all around them, in the empty space where Mina had once sat at, is a single dying heliotrope.

†

The skies are gray over Seoul. Not a single blade of sunlight escapes the thick barrier of clouds overhead. As they streak across the skies, Mina watches their faded reflection off the large building’s black-tinted window panes.

The breeze is strong today. She feels her hair being whipped in all directions, her clothes fluttering in the wind.

She wonders if Nayeon’s wearing a coat thick enough to keep her warm.

She wonders if she’s taken her morning cup of coffee. She wonders if it was steaming when she’d received it, if its scent had filled her with a homegrown warmth the same way it does to her each time.

It’s cold today.

She’s not supposed to feel cold.

How long has it been since she’d last spoken to her? Perhaps one week? Maybe two? Maybe she shouldn’t have run away from her. Maybe she shouldn’t have run away from the garden. Jihyo must be furious.

She sighs, buries her face in her crossed arms.

_ “Mina?” _

There’s a deep rumbling in the dark clouds above, an omen of the rain and each ominous footstep from behind her.

_ How convenient. _

What an all too familiar voice. She turns her head a little, dark eyes catching amber.

A few paces behind her, Sana slowly approaches, dressed today in her normal garbs, a simple dress adorned with gold trimmings that form patterns of a language Mina’s forbidden to learn. She catches sight of the demon’s wings tucking themselves back into her shoulder blades.

“What are you doing,” Sana glances around, “moping around on this apartment building’s roof deck?”

“I’m not ‘moping’,” Mina huffs, turning back to stare at Imcho Corp.’s building in the distance, as it stands towering over the others that surround it.

Sana smiles a little, stopping to stand beside the angel. She rests her weight against the railings. “You say that every time I catch you doing just that.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Mina grumbles.

Sana laughs, gripping the handrail and pushing herself back. The soft crescendos a song the wind carries away in its currents. Mina rubs at her arm, realizing then that she no longer feels the breeze bristling at her.

There’s a dim glow in Sana’s amber eyes.

“You never did change, Mina,” the demon says.

“What are you doing here?” Mina’s grip around the sleeves of her own dress tightens. She doesn’t meet the demon’s gaze.

“I was just passing by,” Sana smiles, crossing her arms along the railing and resting her chin there. “When I saw you looking all sad.”

“Why are you here?” Mina mumbles under her breath. “We’re not friends, Sana. Not anymore.”

There’s a flash of something that looks like pain streaking across Sana’s face. Mina pretends not to notice it.

“How can I?” Sana lets out an empty chuckle. “I don’t like seeing you sad like this.”

Mina frowns, but says nothing more.

Sana sighs. “You know, maybe it helps to talk about it?”

Sharon glowers at her. Sana leans closer, never breaking eye contact, the smile never leaving her lips. So endearing and innocent. And if it weren’t for the ominous amber in her irises, she’d feel as if nothing did change. That they were still in 1505, walking barefoot in the mountains, laughing breathlessly together.

_ “Mina,” Sana had said, tilting her face down so their gazes could meet, as the angel rested her back against a tree. “What’s wrong?” _

_ And Mina couldn’t say anything. Because all she could hear was her quickening heartbeat. _

It’s the same smile, the same piercing gaze. And an empty heartbeat.

Maybe she never did change.

She releases her breath slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sana tilts her head to the side. “Tell you…?”

“You weren’t the ‘thing’ they were sensing,” Mina sighs. “And you knew, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me, right from the start?”

Sana hums in thought. “I was… protecting you.”

“ _ Protecting me? _ How was that protecting me?” Mina looks at her incredulously.

“I didn’t want you to mope around like this,” Sana mutters, pouting after.

Mina lets out another exasperated sigh. “ _ Stop babying me _ . My feelings shouldn’t have mattered. What matters is that, that  _ thing _ is endangering everyone in that building.”

“Then, why didn’t you destroy it too?”

There’s an image that flashes across her mind—a bunny toothed smile over a steaming cup of coffee. A voice, talking animatedly, echoing in a large hallway.

Mina releases a deep breath, looking away. “I was afraid.”

Silence follows after, stretching longer than necessary. Sana inches closer, places a warm hand on Mina’s. Their gazes meet.

“I won’t tell anyone,” her voice bears nothing but sincerity. Mina feels her chest seize. “I promise.”

Mina sighs slowly. Looks to the skies above. “I was afraid… that everything—that everything wasn’t real. That what…  _ I _ felt… that what  _ she _ felt was just the magic of my own feather. I’m afraid to—”

She blinks, looking towards the building again. To the 9th floor. To where Im Nayeon’s office would be. She can see her, standing in front of the glass walls, observing the city.

“I’m afraid to let go of her,” Mina breathes out, her words breaking at the end.

Sana squeezes her hand, turning her gaze towards the building as well. 

“But,” Mina says, “I know I have to. That feather has an alluring scent, doesn’t it?”

Sana nods gravely. “The others have been flocking around it. There’s only really so much I could do but convince them to leave, before they start scolding me.”

Mina looks at her, brows furrowed. “You—you don’t have to do anything for me, you know?” she retracts her hand from Sana’s hold. “You’re a demon. I don’t understand why you haven’t devoured the feather already. You could feed off an entire battalion with the power that feather holds."

Sana smiles tightly. “It’s already corrupted, anyway. And I’d never do that to you. The feather belongs to  _ you _ , after all.”

“Even as a demon,” Mina sighs, “You still do whatever you want to.”

Sana hums faintly. “I’d do anything for those I care about. You should know that by now.”

Mina glances at her, the ghost of a smile playing on her pink lips. Sana beams at her briefly, and the angel watches the dull glow subside from her eyes. She feels the wind bristle at her clothes, her hair again, feels the cold crawl at the expanse of her exposed skin.

The skies are rumbling again, but the air between the two celestial beings is quiet, a calm before the storm, or perhaps the aftermath of another.

“Truth is, Mina,” Sana whispers suddenly, breaking the silence, “Whether you let go or hold on to that human is your choice.”

Mina stays silent.

“Whatever your choice is, there will always be a consequence. As long as you’re aware of them, as long as you’re prepared to deal with them, then you’re going to be fine,” Sana turns to her. “But promise me, Mina—"

She takes her hand, tugging it softly. Mina finally turns to look at her.

Sana holds a fire in her eyes so reminiscent of long ago, when Mina had screamed her name a thousand times. And Sana had called her, hadn’t she? She’d called for her several times, as she held one arm around another, had the other outstretched towards her.

Her dark eyes then brimming with the same fire they burn with now.

“Let your heartbeat lead you to what you must do,” Sana whispers.

Today, Mina stands at another precipice, and on the other side, someone else’s hand is outstretched towards her.

†

The rain had hit several hours ago, but it has yet to subside now. Its pitter-patter against the windows echo like artillery fire through the thick walls of the building. A glum atmosphere engulfs the outside, but strangely, the building’s ninth level only has a few lights turned on.

Mina’s footsteps echo ominously in the hallways. Each footfall resonating in rhythm with her pounding heartbeat.

Strangely, it’s this echoing she finds some comfort in. Each click of her sandal a small calming melody amidst her rising anxiety.

She’s here for one reason, and one reason alone.

She knows where Nayeon’s office is. She knows it’s at the end of the hall.

She knows Nayeon is there.

Just a few paces more—

She stops. Right in front of the mahogany doors that opened to the woman’s office.

Now, the only thing that separates them is this partition.

Mina breathes deeply. Once, twice, maybe three times. Slowly. She never realized angels could feel this anxious. It’s not the most pleasant feeling.

Still, she breathes. In and out and in and out and  _ one and two and three _ —

Her hand finds the doorknob.

What will Nayeon think, once she pushes open this door and steps inside. What will she feel? Anger? Despair? Will she scream for her to leave? Will she push her away?

_ Will she… be happy? _

Mina closes her eyes, breathes slowly.

A deep blue fills everything inside, cold and painful. She rests her head against the cold surface of the door as she feels the instinctive onslaught of tears.

_ I’m sorry. _

She twists the doorknob and pushes the door open.

The rainfall rings much louder in this room than in the corridors outside it. It’s cold, even with the air conditioning unit turned off. It’s dark, even with the light from outside.

The feather glows brightly from the display shelf. She wonders whether humans can observe its celestiality, if they can see its inherent beauty and intricacies.

And Nayeon is sitting before her, at her desk, face illuminated by the dim glow of the computer, typing away fervently on her keyboard. She has her glasses on. Mina thinks it suits her painfully well.

There’s a crack of thunder outside.

Nayeon looks up at the deafening sound, eyes wide and glossy.

Her gaze finds Mina’s.

The sounds of typing stop.

Everything is still. There is nothing but the dull throbbing of a painful heartbeat.

And then—

Nayeon’s lips break out into a huge smile. Her eyes turn wet.

And Mina can't bear to meet her gaze.

“Mina, you’re here,” Nayeon stands, her tone disbelieving.

_ She’s here for one reason and one reason alone. _

Mina makes her way towards the display shelf.

“Wait, Mina,” Nayeon watches her from the desk, taking a few, slow steps forward.

She freezes when she sees Mina take the glass jar.

Mina finally meets her gaze, glaring coldly. Nayeon’s fist curls around the edge of the desk.

The angel drops the jar to the floor. She doesn’t even look as it shatters into a million pieces.

“Mina, what—” Nayeon’s quiet voice breaks. She clears her throat as she approaches slowly. “What are you doing?”

“Nayeon,” Mina breathes out.

She slams a foot down on the feather. Twists and turns it around and watches each barbule tear out and dissipate into minute particles.

“Mina—”

“I hate you,” Mina chokes out. Each word a black hole to her own despairing soul.

Nayeon stops.

“I hate the things you've done to me," Mina says lowly.

She steels herself in one breath and raises her gaze to meet Nayeon's.

"I hate that you practically forced yourself into my life when we were mere strangers then," she heaves out. "I hate that I let you."

She twists her foot over and over until the feather is completely crushed. Until she feels the particles slowly crawl up to her.

"Even when I knew you'd befriended me for your own agenda, I hate that I kept staying by your side," Mina smiles bitterly.

The darkness is Nayeon’s perfect mask. Her eyes have become like shutters, a barrier to anything inside, while Mina's have become rising floodgates.

"I hate the way you smile. I hate the way you look at me, like I'm something much greater than I really am," Mina clenches her fist. Something cold streaks down her cheek. "I hate the things you make me feel."

Nayeon steps forward.

"I hate that I let you do this to me. I hate that even now I still can't let you go, even though I should," Mina feels a cold prickling at her back, just as a tear drips down to the floor.

"Mina—" Nayeon steps closer.

"I especially hate the fact that you smiled," Mina steps back, "when I'd entered through that door. I hate that you're here, right now. That you're not saying angthing."

Nayeon takes another step.

" _ Nayeon _ , get mad at me," Mina almost pleads, her voice breaking with each uttered word. "Nayeon, I destroyed this special feather for your project. It's gone now—don't you see?"

There's another crack of lightning, illuminating the faint curves of Nayeon’s face, letting her eyes gleam for a brief moment.

Why does this human still stare at her with the twinkle of starlight in her eyes?

"Nayeon, you  _ need _ to  _ hate _ me," Mina rasps, her tone desperate and hoarse. 

"How can you ask that of me?" Nayeon says softly, raising two hands and cupping Mina's cheeks. She wipes at the tears cascading down her face.

The angel chokes. 

"All this time, my head was filled with thoughts of you," Nayeon whispers.

Mina's eyes are drawn to Nayeon’s lips as they formed each syllable of each spoken word.

_ Cherry red— _

_ She's so close. _

"Why—" Mina croaks, glancing up to meet her weighted gaze. "How can you say that? I  _ left _ . I said  _ nothing _ to you. I did something  _ cruel _ to you."

"I  _ am _ furious," Nayeon chuckles breathlessly. "And incredibly sad, yes. But right now, Mina, the only thought repeating over and over in my head is that  _ you're here. _ "

Mina can't breathe. 

"You don't know how happy I am," Nayeon sighs, pressing her forehead against hers. "I missed you so,  _ so  _ much."

_ She's so close. _

"Nayeon—"

The human opens her eyes.

The universe lies in her twinkling gaze, its weight bearing down on the angel’s chest, squeezing at her throbbing heart.

_ Nayeon is so close.  _

In this dark room, surrounded by broken glass, the music of the heavy rain, and an entirely corporate atmosphere, Mina is at a crossroad.

And Nayeon is on the other side, with her cheeky grin and her outstretched hand.

_ She's so c— _

" _ Mina? _ "

On the breath of Nayeon’s lips, her name is a hummingbird’s melody.

"I don't hate you," Mina whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

And Nayeon closes the distance between them, capturing her lips in her own.

Mina feels every breath leave her.

She tastes like cherries and coffee, just like she'd dreamt she would. And maybe a hint of  _ Soju _ and chocolate and everything that makes an angel’s stomach churn.

She tastes like the stars that dot the infinite sky, twinkling like cherubims watching from above. She tastes like every sweet dream she's had in the garden, like the flowers that bloom in her wake, as her mind wandered to her so often in those quiet days. The reds and blues and ivories that grew around her.

She tastes like white lilies and newborn feelings.

She tastes like purple heliotropes and aging romances.

She tastes like the blazing red power of a rising successor.

She tastes like  _ Im Nayeon. _

And as Nayeon wraps her arms around her, pulling her closer,  _ closer— _ impossibly closer—

Mina realizes, most of all, she tastes like golden salvation.

†

The rain over Seoul has calmed. In the gaps between the flurries of gray in the sky, blades of light pour in from the sun up above. Only a few droplets trickle in from the clouds now, pressing small, cold kisses to the passersby below.

In a distant apartment building, a demon stands quietly on its terrace, eyes fixated on the world down below.

Just as another arrives by her side and takes her hand in her own.

This new one has a look much more menacing than hers.

Yet, this once lone demon still gives her a smile whose warmth rivals that of the peeking sun.

Their fingers are intertwined as they observe the light pouring in the city of Seoul.

In a sanctuary, far beyond the outskirts of eternity, a single angel storms away and leaves behind another.

Sitting in a field of endless green.

This lonely angel lays back into the grass blooming chrysanthemums at her touch. She looks up to the sky, just as she does, every single day of her mundane life tied to this place.

She writes a poem in her head and whispers it to the stars above.

In a cold office of an earthly building, an angel and a human hold each other close on a couch that's too small for the both of them.

Laughing softly and whispering sweet confessions in each other's ears.

There is nobody else, no other soul in this little world between one and two. And they would not have it any other way.

Because at the precipice between heaven and hell, Mina had chosen Im Nayeon.

**Author's Note:**

> But one of the greatest sins an angel can commit is to fall in love with God’s precious children.
> 
> @genuslocii on twitter :)


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